


Sirius Black's Guide to a Happy Family

by Hemlockconium



Series: The Sirius Black and Remus Lupin have a daughter AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Baby Harry, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Break Up, Cheating - But They Were Broken Up At The Time, Death, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, First War with Voldemort, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sirius Black (Mostly), Getting Back Together, Marauders' Era, Marriage Proposal, Meeting the Parents, Multi, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Parenthood, Regret, Remus Lupin Has Some Major Self-Hate Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Soulmates, Strong Female Characters, Swearing, The Marauder's Deserved Better, Unconventional Families, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Weddings, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hemlockconium/pseuds/Hemlockconium
Summary: Hard times can make or break a relationship, and times can't get much harder than when you're fighting in a war, you're boyfriend is a werewolf with serious self-esteem issues, and you've just cheated on him - the fact that you were broken up at the time and that it was he who inititated said break up is irrelevant. Set during the first war against Voldemort, the Marauders fight to keep their friendship intact while dealing with the ever-present threat of death, violence, and misery, as well as a couple of unplanned pregnancies and an uncertain future.





	1. Do Not: Bring Up Old Mistakes

_Some time in_ _early_ _May_ _1979,_

_Somewhere in_ _London,_

_Remus J. Lupin,_

 

It was a miserable bloody night. The icy rain hit Remus’s skin like viscous little pinpricks, soaking him from head to foot and freezing him to the bone. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he’d only gotten a couple of hours of sleep in last night between a reconnaissance mission for the Order and his early morning shift at the Muggle store. To top it all off, the full moon was less than a week away, making him cranky and restless. He wanted to go home, order take-out, and have a long bath… Merlin, he would kill for a bath right now. But he couldn’t have what he wanted, because he’d promised Prongs that he’d show up to this bloody party in the middle of bloody London.

He hated the city, hated it. Every city. Big towns too. He wasn’t sure if it was the wolf in him, who would much prefer a real forest to the urban jungle, or if it was because he’d grown up in rural Wales and wasn’t used to all these looming buildings and crowded streets, but for whatever the reason, they made his skin crawl and they made him feel on edge and jumpy and paranoid. But despite the unease that it caused, this was where he’d chosen to live. He kept telling himself that it was for practicality’s sake: everything was easier to get to in the city, amenities were plentiful and close at hand, there were more opportunities, more job offers… but, honestly, he only stayed out of pure stubbornness and contrariety toward whatever base instinct made him hate metropolitan areas so much.

He wasn’t in a busy part of town, that was something at least. It was an upscale residential area in a Muggle neighbourhood, with big houses that probably cost more than Remus would make in a lifetime. The party was being hosted by old friends of James’s parents. Remus wasn’t sure what their names were, but James said that they were good people. But good people or not, Remus thought they were being foolish by having a big party and inviting people they didn’t even know while there was a war going on. James hadn’t shared his concerns, though:

“Come on, Moony, we could do with having a good time,” he’d said when Remus had raised his concerns.

And, of course, Remus had caved, because his friends had been so excited, and Sirius had given him that look, and how could he say no to that look? He’d started to look forward to it, even. That was until Dumbledore gave him a last minute assignment and his boss demanded that he work overtime to make up for the hours that he’d missed during the last full moon. Now he was decidedly not in the mood for a party.

He was over three hours late and he’d hoped that everyone would have gone home by now, but apparently they’d all decided to make the most of the free booze, and to forget, at least for awhile, that people were being tortured and murdered all over the country at this very moment.

Remus gave himself a hard shake, he was going to be the life of the party with this attitude.

The festivities had spilled out onto the front steps of the house, beneath the stone overhang, where three separate couples where snogging, and embracing, and being completely oblivious to the world around them. Light spilled out onto the street as Remus stepped into the house, the door swung shut behind him, and he just stood there luxuriating in the warmth. He didn’t plan on moving any time soon, but an excited shriek told him that, once again, his wishes would not be respected.

Lily flung herself at him, not caring that he was drenched, and hugged him tightly. She smelled strongly of alcohol.

“You’re here,” she shouted merrily. “We didn’t think you were going to come.”

Remus got a little annoyed at that, he’d promised he’d be here, hadn’t he?

“Oh, you’re all wet,” she said, not noticing how his jaw clenched. She took out her wand and with a sharp jab she siphoned away all the water. Figures that even plastered she could do that spell better than he could sober. “Come on, everyone’s in the living room.”

She helped him out of his coat and took his hand, leading him further into the mansion. He quickly discovered that not _everyone_ was in the living room. There were a lot more couples lining the walls, and muffled giggles and moans could be heard through closed doors. Remus was starting to feel very uncomfortable, but Lily found the whole thing hilarious – she found everything hilarious when she was drunk.

The living room was about twice the size of the flat that Remus shared with Sirius, and about fifty people moved around the space, dancing, and talking, and drinking, and eating. He spotted several levitating appetizer platters and grabbed whatever he could get his hands on, not bothering to savour any of it, just hoping to fill his stomach.

There was a resounding shout of ‘Moony!’ as Lily and Remus dropped onto the sofa where James and Peter had been huddled together, whispering, before their arrival.

“How was work?” asked Peter, a little cross-eyed from all the booze.

“Awful,” he said snatching a couple of shrimp and avocado concoctions that weren’t half bad from a passing tray.

“I don’t see why you don’t just quit,” said Lily, throwing her legs over his lap. “You’re too good for that place.”

Remus didn’t say anything. Work wasn’t a subject he liked getting into with his friends, because they all thought he could do better, but he wasn’t about to let himself get deluded by their optimism. He knew that realistically the chances of him getting a decent job were practically non-existent, he’d known this even when he was still in school. His condition meant that, for any job he got, he’d have to take at least one sick day a month, every month. This limited his career options drastically. He couldn't work in the wizarding world, because anyone with a brain would add two and two together and figure out what he was and fire him on the spot; and he couldn’t get a proper job in the Muggle world because he had no qualifications. Anyway you tried to spin it, he was screwed. The only reason he’d held his current job this long was because his boss knew that he was desperate, and he knew that desperate people could be worked harder and longer than the rest, and he could pay them less for it. Give it another couple full moons, though, and even mean Mr. Seaman would grow tired of Remus’s monthly absences and give him the boot.

He tried to ignore his impending unemployment, and instead he took in the rest of the guests. He’d expected to see mostly people James’s parents’ age, but he’d been wrong. There were a few older wizards and witches, but most of the party-goers ranged from Remus’s age to people in their late-thirties.

“There she is,” Peter squeaked, jumping up and down in his seat. James perked up immediately and ran his hand through his hair.

“There who is?” Remus asked, wondering who had gotten his friends so excited.

“Asherah Morrigan,” Peter whispered reverently, pointing to a tall, beautiful young woman surrounded by a crowd of people to their left.

“Who is she?” he asked, and Lily snorted as both James and Peter’s heads whipped toward him.

“Only the best Chaser on the planet,” said James. “Youngest ever to play for the World Cup, an artist on a broom, a legend.”

Remus smirked. “You’re a fan, then?”

“She’s won Israel the Cup twice in a row, and she’s only twenty-two,” he said dreamily. “She’s magnificent.”

“He’s been drooling over her all evening, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to go talk to her yet,” said Lily, poking her boyfriend in the ribs.

“Merlin, don’t tell me James Potter is actually nervous,” said Remus.

Lily nodded seriously. “’Fraid so, poor lamb.”

“You’re both awful,” James groaned.

“You are ogling another woman with your girlfriend sat right there,” said Peter.

“Ah, but Prongs doesn’t see her as a woman, he only sees Quidditch. She could be a mountain troll for all he cares, but if she’s good at that damn sport he’ll still grovel at her feet,” Remus explained sagely making Lily laugh.

James threw a throw pillow at him, hitting him square in the face – he hadn’t been Gryffindor’s star Chaser for nothing.

“Oi, quit abusing my boyfriend.” Sirius vaulted over the back of the sofa, landing heavily in Remus’s lap. Lily had to quickly move her legs to not get squashed, and Remus groaned under his weight.

Sirius was drunk. This was not only obvious by the wet kiss that Sirius pressed sloppily to his mouth, but also by the fact that Sirius seemed to have completely forgotten their argument from the previous night.

Remus and Sirius spent a lot of time arguing of late. They argued about little things, like whose turn it was to do the dishes and putting laundry in the hamper where it belonged rather than dumping it on the floor. Little spats and temper flares, that at least once a week turned into full blown shouting matches addressing issues far greater than dishes and laundry. That was what had happened last night, it had started with Remus coming home late from work to a flat that looked like a hurricane had blown through it, and it had evolved from there into their biggest row yet.

“Still haven’t found the balls to go and talk to her, then?” Sirius asked James, nuzzling against Remus’s neck.

Sirius became very tactile when he was plastered, more so than usual, which was saying something. Unfortunately, public displays of affection made Remus uncomfortable, but Sirius didn’t care about that. Sirius got what Sirius wanted, always and regardless of anyone else’s feelings on the matter. Remus felt the now familiar bitter resentment building and jumped to his feet, pushing Sirius out of his lap, before the feeling could get any worse.

“Come on then, Prongs,” he said, hoping his joviality didn’t sound too forced. “Lets go meet your hero.”

James looked terrified, but Remus managed to pull him to his feet, and with Lily’s help, they herded him toward the Quidditch star. She was uncommonly pretty, with a very sharp jaw, very high cheekbones, and very dark hair. She was also tall, almost reaching Remus’s height in her heels and easily towering over the rest of his friends.

“Hello,” said Lily boldly, elbowing her way to the front of the crowd and sticking out her hand.

Morrigan smiled and shook Lily’s proffered hand. “Hello,” she said, her accent turning her voice into a deep, musical melody.

“My boyfriend’s a big fan of yours,” said Lily, pointing her thumb over her shoulder to where James stood, wide-eyed and gaping.

Morrigan made direct eye contact with James and his tan skin took on a faint red colour. He opened his mouth, lips forming words, but no sound coming out; he looked like a floundering fish. Lily was sniggering madly at her boyfriend’s predicament. Morrigan also found the whole thing fairly amusing, smirking as she held her hand out for him to shake. Sirius had to shove him forward a bit before he grabbed it enthusiastically and started grinning like a maniac.

“You are all from Hogwarts?” Morrigan asked when James finally released her hand.

“Graduated last year,” Peter said, his voice squeaking with nerves.

A stout man with rosy cheeks and a big grin thumped James on the back. Remus guessed this was their host. “Miss Morrigan went up to Hogwarts yesterday, played a few pick-up games of Quidditch with the kids. Bet you regret not being there for that, eh, James? How are you all enjoying the party?”

After making sure that his young guests were having a good time, the little man walked away merrily. James was an even deeper shade of red now, and he still hadn’t said a word. Feeling a tad sorry for the lad, Remus started talking to Morrigan, distracting her from the fool James was making of himself.

“How did you like Hogwarts?”

“It was nice, a bit draughty, though,” she said.

Lily snorted. “You should visit during the winter. I used to have to wander around with three layers of clothing on before I learned the warming charm.”

“Where did you go to school?” Peter asked excitedly.

“I went to one of the Israeli magical primary schools when I was a child, and I studied at Ilvermorny in North America when I was a teenager.” That explained how her English was so good.

“I’ve read about Ilvermorny,” said Remus. “What’s it like?”

“Not dissimilar to Hogwarts: a big castle in the middle of nowhere, with its many students sorted into four houses, and teachers who are either very good or very bad at their job.”

Remus chuckled and agreed wholeheartedly, remembering Professor Slughorn’s disastrous attempts at teaching him potions.

“Did Ilvermorny just completely copy off of Hogwarts?” asked Lily screwing her nose up.

“Pretty much,” Morrigan agreed. Sirius was pawing at the back of Remus’s shirt. Remus tried to ignore him. “Although I’ve been told that both schools sort their students based on different things.”

“What does Ilvermorny base itself on?” Remus asked. Sirius was not getting the message that he wanted to be left alone.

“It sorts its students according to the traits they possess, deciding whether they are scholars, warriors, healers, or adventurers.”

“But that’s exactly how Hogwarts’ sorting works as well,” said Peter.

Morrigan shook her head. “I was told that the Hogwarts’ sorting depended on the traits you value, rather than the ones you possess. Ilvermorny focuses on what you are, while Hogwarts emphasizes what you want to be.”

It was a fair observation, but Remus couldn’t focus on it because Sirius had renewed his efforts to get his attention.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

He grabbed Sirius’s hand, excused himself from the conversation, and marched away, dragging Sirius along with him. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but anywhere away from the crowd would be fine by him. They ended up in the entrance hall, and Remus pushed Sirius into the cupboard Lily had thrown his coat in earlier.

It was dark, but even so Remus couldn’t miss Sirius’s blazing grin. “Wow, Moony,” he purred sultrily. “I just wanted to dance, but if you insist…”

Suddenly Sirius’s hands were everywhere and his mouth was everywhere else. He was unbuttoning Remus’s shirt and trailing kisses down the column of his throat, whispering “I missed you,” and “I love you,” before Remus could get a word in. Remus tried pushing him away, but Sirius was insistent. Remus almost gave in, as he always did. It was so nice to be touched like this, to be wanted like this. He wanted to cherish it, knowing that this might be the last time they spent together.

He’d never had to worry about this at Hogwarts. When they were still at school things had been so good between them, their relationship had been solid for two whole years, but then they’d stepped out into the big, bad world and it had all gone to hell, and the war was only partly to blame. Remus knew that they would have hit this rough patch regardless of the chaos brewing around them, because the problem was far too serious to ignore forever. It had been easy to overlook it back at Hogwarts, where options were limited. But now it was painfully obvious to him that he and Sirius were not equals, that they would never be equals, because Remus would always need this relationship more than Sirius did. Sirius had options; he was smart, handsome, funny, he’d have no problem finding someone else when he realized he was too good for Remus. And he _was_ too good for Remus, no matter what he said. Because Remus would always be looked down on for what he was, he would never be able to hold a job, never be able to have a family, he would never fit in, never be normal, and Sirius deserved a normal life. Remus knew that the minute it ended with Sirius, that would be it for him. He would never find anyone else to love him after Sirius, unless he was willing to lie to them and hide his condition from them, but even then it couldn’t last. He’d be alone.

Remus shoved Sirius hard, planting his hands firmly on Sirius’s shoulders to keep him at a distance. “I think we should break up.”

He said it quickly, hoping to get all the words out before he changed his mind again. How many times had he tried to say it in the past few months? How many times had it nearly come out but not quite? How many arguments had he started because he couldn’t say what he needed to say? Well, he’d said it now and Sirius was looking at him like a kicked puppy. He wasn’t fighting to close the space between them anymore, so Remus let his arms fall awkwardly to his side.

“What do you mean?” asked Sirius, his voice was very small, and Remus hated it, hated how it made him feel.

“I mean we aren’t happy together, and we need to stop seeing each other,” said Remus, hugging himself tightly, hoping that it would make this hurt less. It didn’t.

“I am happy,” he said, betrayal etched all over his face.

Remus shook his head. He wasn’t about to let Sirius guilt him into taking it back. “No, you’re not. You want to be and you try to be, but you’re not. We’re not.”

“Please don’t do this. It’s just a rough patch, we can fix it.”

Remus sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Why would you want to? You’re miserable.”

“I’m miserable because I love you, but you’re never around,” he said, frustration and anger slowly creeping into his voice. “I’ve barely seen you in weeks.”

“Don’t act like this is my fault,” Remus snapped. Anger was good, anger was familiar, he could handle Sirius’s anger far better than he could deal with that forsaken look on his face. “The Order comes first, you said so yourself.”

“Yeah, the _Order_ , not those two Muggle jobs of yours that you hate.”

“I’ve got to make a living somehow, not everyone has dead relatives who leave them money.”

“You know that I have enough to support the two of us,” Sirius shouted. Their argument was getting louder by the minute and if anyone walked by they would know exactly what was being said, but Remus didn’t care.

“I don’t want you to support me, I don’t want to have to rely on you for everything,” Remus spat.

“If you’d stop being so fucking prideful, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You could quit those awful jobs, and focus your efforts on the Order like the rest of us are, and we’d be together, and you wouldn’t be so damn grumpy all the time.”

“Are you saying I’m not as helpful to the Order as you are?” Remus asked angrily.

“I’m saying you’re spreading yourself too thin, and you don’t have to.”

“You don’t even realize how privileged you are, do you?” Remus snarled. “You have no idea how bad some people have it. Don’t you get that I’m doing this for you? To protect you?”

“Don’t be such a bloody hypocrite” he snapped. “You’re not doing this for me, you’re doing this because you don’t think you’re good enough. You think I can do better than you, and you’re going to keep pushing me away until I prove you right, but I won’t. No matter what you do, I will always love you and I will never hurt you.”

Remus sneered. “Really? ‘Cause I remember you hurting me pretty bad when you told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow.”

Sirius flinched and Remus knew that it had been a low blow. “That was years ago.”

“So? What’s to say you won’t do it again? That you won’t use me as a weapon to hurt someone you don’t like? Make me kill them or worse bite them? If anything had happened that night, the Ministry would have put me down like an animal and it would have been all your fault.”

“I made a mistake!” he shouted, and Remus wasn’t sure, but there may have been tears in Sirius’s eyes. “I was sixteen and I made a mistake, and if you’re going to keep lording it over me every time we argue, then maybe we should break up.”

“Good,” Remus snapped, grabbing his coat. At least he was pretty sure it was his coat, his throat was contracting uncomfortably and his eyes were stinging, and he knew he was about to cry, so he grabbed the first coat that felt like his, and stormed out of the cupboard.

“Great,” Sirius shouted back. There was a loud thump and a curse as Sirius hit or kicked something, Remus wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t about to turn around to check. Tears were running freely down his cheeks as he slammed the front door behind him and stepped out into the rain.

He’d done it, he’d ripped off the band-aid. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.


	2. Do Not: Be Unfaithful

_An hour or so later,_

_Sirius Black,_

 

Sirius slammed the door behind him, swearing profanities at men in general, and one man in particular to the dark, empty room.

“Get into a fight with your boyfriend?” a voice called from the shadows, making Sirius jump. The owner of the disembodied voice stepped into the faint light from the street bellow that was being filtered in through the tall window, and it took Sirius’s muddled brain a moment to recognize Asherah Morrigan, the Quidditch player.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, staring around the dark room. It looked like a spare bedroom, sparsely decorated, but with all that was needed for a short term guest.

“Hiding. I can’t deal with fans and reporters when I’m this drunk,” Asherah said nonchalantly.

Sirius smirked. “So you hide out in dark bedrooms instead?”

“The light doesn’t work, and most of the other rooms are otherwise occupied,” she said.

Sirius reached over to the wall next to him, running his hand along it until he found the light switch. He flicked it up and down a few times, but to no avail.

“I do know how a light switch works, thank you,” Asherah said derisively.

“Just checking,” he said, taking a swig from the firewhisky bottle in his hand. He could try casting _Lumos_ , but with the amount he’d been drinking he stood a better chance of blowing a hole through the wall than illuminating his wand.

“What’s your name again?” she asked.

“Sirius Black,” he said, offering her the bottle of hard liquor.

“Asherah Morrigan,” she said, taking a long gulp and handing it back to him. “Pleasure.”

She’d taken her heels off, and he noted with mild distress that even barefoot she was still taller than he was, although it was only by an inch or so.

“Did my friend ever get around to talking to you?” he asked as she stumbled down onto the edge of the bed, groaning slightly.

“Which one?”

“The specky git with the disastrous hair.”

She snorted and it turned into a throaty laugh so contagious that he started chortling along with her.

“No, he did not,” she said after she’d caught her breath. “He tried after you left, but I’m not sure what he was attempting to say, it sounded more like a braying donkey.”

“Poor Prongs, finally meets his hero and turns mute for the first time in his life.”

She sniggered. “What kind of a name is Prongs?”

“It’s his nickname,” he explained.

“What? ‘The specky git with the disastrous hair’ was already taken?”

“Too long,” he said, plopping down on the bed next to her.

“Fair point. What’s your nickname?”

“Padfoot.”

“And the redhead?”

“Doesn’t have one, she wasn’t part of the group when we decided we needed top secret code names. We call the little blond guy Wormtail.”

She laughed again, it was a nice sound. “What did he do to deserve that? And if it’s so top secret, why are you telling me?”

“You seem trustworthy,” he said nodding solemnly and bursting out in a grin.

“What’s the tall one's nickname?”

Sirius paused, he didn’t want to talk about Remus. “Moony,” he said quietly.

She snorted. “Subtle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked cautiously.

“Those scars speak for themselves,” she said. “I’ve never met anyone with lycanthropy before.”

Even through the haze of alcohol alarm bells were ringing in Sirius’s head. “Remus isn’t a werewolf.”

She gave him a funny look and rolled her eyes. “Okay.”

Silence fell and Sirius tried very hard to get the part of his brain that wasn’t so heavily affected by the booze up and working. She knew Remus’s secret. She’d barely spent five minutes with him and she’d figured it out. But she didn’t seem all that bothered by it. When Sirius had figured it out he’d been curious and excited, he hadn’t been afraid, not even a little, because it was Remus and nothing about Remus could ever be bad or frightening. James had been very James about it, of course, he’d taken it in stride and reassured Moony that they were still his friends and that they still loved him no matter what. Peter had been a bit nervous at first, but he’d gotten over it quickly enough. Lily, who had found out a few years later than the rest of them, had been more concerned for Remus’s well-being than anything else. But this woman, who didn’t know Remus, who didn’t love him unconditionally like Sirius, and James, and Peter, and Lily did, had not only figured out what he was, but wasn’t batting an eye at it.

“No one’s ever figured it out so fast,” he said eventually, very quietly. “It took me over a year and I shared a dorm with him.”

She shifted until she sat cross-legged and shrugged. “It’s easy when you know the signs. I had a teacher at Ilvermorny who was a lycanthropy expert. A good man, very open-minded…” Her brows knitted together in a look of extreme concentration. “Pretty sure my mother slept with him.”

Sirius had to laugh at the look of utter horror and complete disgust on her face.

“I won’t tell, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said once he’d quietened. “The prejudice against people with his condition is ridiculous and completely unfounded, but it exists nonetheless. I get why he wouldn’t want people to know.”

He stared at her as she stared off into space. She’d surprised him, and people so rarely surprised him that he wasn’t sure how to react. So he changed the subject.

“Why can’t you deal with fans and reporters when you’re drunk?”

She looked over at him and smirked, dark eyes twinkling. “I’m naturally prone to honesty, and alcohol destroys the few filters that I have. It’s gotten me into trouble before.”

Sirius grinned mischievously, he desperately wanted to forget about Remus, at least for a little while, and he knew that James would go green with envy when he found out that Sirius had had a long, one-on-one conversation with _the_ Asherah Morrigan. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind where I ended up spending the night in a Muggle jail cell,” Asherah said, reaching for the bottle. Sirius handed it to her.

“That’s a story I want to hear,” he said.

Asherah sighed.

“A couple of years ago, after a big victory celebration involving a lot of drinking, I went for a run at some ungodly hour. I jogged past this Muggle residential area where some paranoid little homeowner woke up to take a piss, saw a tall, dark figure running through his neighbourhood, panicked, and called the cops. They show up and get really patronizing and misogynistic, saying shit like how beautiful women shouldn’t be allowed out after dark for their own safety. It pissed me off, I got snarky, they didn’t like that, and suddenly I’m handcuffed in the back of their car and then unceremoniously thrown into an already crowded cell. They let me out the next morning because they had nothing the charge me with, but it was an interesting night.”

“Sticking it to the Man,” said Sirius, the slightest slur creeping into his voice after another long chug from the bottle.

“Now your turn. Why are you hiding out in a dark room with a bottle of firewhisky?” she asked.

“Because I couldn’t find anything stronger,” he said, avoiding the question, and taking another gulp of the hard liquor, enjoying the feeling of it burning its way down his throat, and remembering a time when he’d spluttered and gasped after every sip.

“They hide the good stuff in the basement,” she said, clearly unbothered by his lack of an answer.

“Where’s the basement?” he asked, looking over at her.

She frowned. The expression made her nose scrunch up, and Sirius had to admit that she really was very attractive. Too tall, he thought, but at that moment they were both sitting on the bed so it wasn’t noticeable.

Her expression relaxed as she said, “Down,” and flopped down on the bed.

Sirius smirked. “Thanks, I couldn’t have figured that out by myself.”

“Fuck off, and find it yourself then,” she said, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

“Nah, I can’t be bothered,” he said, reclining on the bed as well. “Can you?”

“No. I’m not moving any more,” she said.

“Neither am I. Guess that makes us roommates,” Sirius said, taking another drink.

Asherah shrugged. “Fine, but I get the bed.”

“How come you get the bed?” he asked, frowning, and yes, pouting too.

“Because I was here first, and chivalry dictates it,” she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Screw chivalry, I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he said stubbornly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Isn’t one of the defining qualities of Gryffindor chivalry?”

“How’d do you know I’m a Gryffindor?”

She waved her hand derisively above her head. “It came up when I was talking to the redhead.” Another thoughtful pout. “She was pretty.”

“That’s my best friend’s girlfriend you’re talking about.” He was prepared to defend James’s honour if he had to.

Another derisive wave. “It’s not like I said I want to shag her brains out.”

Sirius accepted this and moved back to more important matters. “Back to the sleeping arrangement -”

“The bed’s mine,” she interjected. He ignored her.

“As you so brilliantly pointed out earlier, we aren’t picked for our Hogwarts Houses based on the traits we possess, but the ones we value. I may value chivalry, but I am not necessarily chivalrous.”

She snorted. “You’re so full of crap.”

“Because I’m using your words against you?” he smirked.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to annoy instead of me,” she said.

Sirius tensed. “Remus and I are not currently speaking,” he said, his voice clipped.

“Yeah? What did you do?” she asked.

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at her. “Why do you assume I was the one who did something?”

“Because Remus looks like a nice guy, and I’ve been talking with you for maybe ten minutes and I can tell that you are not.”

“I am nice!” he said, his voice rising.

“If you were nice you’d let me have the bed,” she said.

“We’ll play for it,” he said.

She tilted her head to the side. “Play what?”

“I don’t know… That Muggle game ‘Rock, paper, scissors’.”

“And rely on chance?” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”

“What then?” Sirius had a thought, and smiled devilishly. “Do you want to fight for it?”

Asherah smirked. “If I didn’t already know I’d win, then yeah, sure,” she said arrogantly.

He snorted. “You won’t win.”

She laughed. “Of course I will, I’m in excellent physical shape.”

“So am I,” he said defensively.

Her eyes glided over him, and she snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He dropped the bottle and it crashed to the floor, contents spilling on the rug, as he pounced on her. She was taken aback by the surprise attack, but she reacted quickly enough. They grappled for the upper hand for all of five seconds, before she came out on top, pinning him to the bed.

“How did you do that?” he asked, his breathing uneven, staring up at Asherah, her eyes bright, and her hair wildly escaping the neat twist it had been trapped in.

“What were you expecting?” she smirked, her breathing just as erratic as his. “I’m an international Quidditch player with a strict exercise routine, and you’re a pretty little high society boy. The odds were not in your favour.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

Asherah cocked an eyebrow. “Pretty? Little? High society? Or boy?”

“All of it,” he growled.

She leaned down closer to him, he could smell the firewhisky on her breath. “Or what?” she whispered mockingly.

He reacted. He didn’t think. If he had he would never have done it. But he didn’t. The firewhisky warped his brain, and the chaotic look in her eyes drove him over the edge, and before he knew what he was doing, his lips had crashed into hers. He felt her gasp, felt her hesitate, and he felt her give in. She kissed him back fervently, and he fumbled with the pins that were holding up her hair until the dark locks were free. There was a part of his brain that was screaming at him to stop, that was throwing up images of Remus’s face, but Sirius ignored it, and pushed the images away. He wanted to forget: about the war, about the deaths… and, yes, in that moment, about Remus.

Items of clothing were being hastily removed, and now he was on top of her, pushing into her, searching for release… It didn’t last long, and when it was over, he collapsed next to her, and he was unconscious by the time his head hit the pillow.


	3. Do Not: Abandon Them

_The morning after,_

_Asherah Levy Morrigan,_

 

Asherah’s head was pounding. The smell of firewhisky and sweat permeated the room in a nauseating blend making her upset stomach contract painfully. She wanted to open a window and breathe in some fresh air, but her bones felt like they were made of lead, crushing her from within and trapping her where she lay. The bastard who had designed this room had expertly placed the bed so that the first rays of morning sun fell directly onto the top of the bed, hitting her in the face, those gentle beams feeling like evil pinpricks going straight through her eyelids and driving into her brain. She wasn’t sure if there was a blanket she could throw over her head, but if there was, she was either lying on it or it wasn’t within reach, she wasn’t capable of enough movement to find out. Her teeth felt funny and there was a foul taste in her mouth and she wanted to die.

She’d never been this hungover before. The worst she’d experienced was when she was seventeen and she’d been introduced to tequila for the first time, but then she’d only had a mild headache and loss of appetite. It wasn’t comparable to the sledgehammer madly digging away at her brain and the violent rolling of her stomach as though it had taken a trip to the stormy high seas without her.

She was never drinking again. It wasn’t worth it.

She’d known even as she’d started in on her third glass of champagne that she’d regret it come morning. She hadn’t had a drink in nearly a year, and the alcohol tolerance she’d built up since her late teens had faded into non-existence.

This new no-alcohol rule had not been her idea. She believed in sensible moderation rather than total abstinence, but her coach had not agreed with her. The next Quidditch World Cup was only three years away, and there was no time to waste, and while she was in training, her coach’s word was law. There were strict rules to follow, and sobriety was top of the list. She’d been doing so well too, but last night she’d let the temptation get the better of her. The journalists hounding her hadn’t helped keep her away from the alcohol table, and neither had the chatty, dim-witted man the British Ministry of Magic had sent to show her around London. _Circe, he was dull_.

She’d meant for her trip to London to be fun. She’d visited the city a half a dozen times with her team, but she’d never taken the opportunity to really see it. This time she’d wanted to be a tourist, anonymous and without responsibilities. But she’d made the mistake of mentioning the trip to her coach who decided to turn it into an impromptu press tour. The first couple of days had been one press conference after another, then her little Ministry official had taken her to visit all the sites, and she’d been followed by a horde of photographers and journalists every step of the way. The most fun she’d had was during the Hogwarts visit, because no matter how negative her feelings were about the press, she did enjoy spending time with her fans, especially if she got to play the game she loved with them. There had been some decent players there too, and with the right training, some of them could give her a run for her money in a few years' time.

Today was her last day in the city, and she wasn’t sure what her tour guide had planned, but whatever it was, she wasn’t up for it. She was going to pretend she wasn’t in and hide under the bed if she had to. She was in no fit state to entertain.

There was a groan next to her and she froze. She couldn’t remember bringing anyone back to her hotel last night, then again the second half of the evening was mostly a blur. She tried to get her drowsy mind up and running enough to remember who was lying in bed with her, but it wasn’t cooperating. She tried cracking open an eyelid, and barely managed to get it halfway open before it crashed back down painfully.

On to plan B, then.

The brief glimpse she’d gotten of the room was enough to tell her that she hadn’t made it back to her hotel, and even stupid drunk, she wouldn’t have gone to some random strangers house, so she was still at the house of that old couple who’d hosted the party. Good, now she knew where she was. Step two: who was she with?

The groan had sounded male, which was in itself a surprise given how her drunk self tended to prefer women - her sober self was more 50/50. There had only been a few men she’d found attractive at the party last night, and they’d all been paired off with a significant other. Two of the guys had actually been dating each other, she’d had a short conversation with the taller one… and the other one -

It was that thought which brought the memories tumbling back.

She’d been taking a break from the crowds when Sirius had barged in, slurring curses about men. He’d had a row with his boyfriend, and he and she had talked. He was funny, she remembered, and he’d brought a bottle of firewhisky with him which they’d shared. It was a combination of that heavy dose of hard liquor and bad decisions, that had led to them sleeping together.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

That was two of her coaches rules she’d broken: no drinking and no shagging. This new zero distractions, zero girlfriends, zero boyfriends, zero sex training regime of his to get her in top shape for the start of the next Quidditch season was not going well.

She wasn’t in the mood for an awkward morning-after conversation, especially with a guy who was going to be feeling guilty as hell for cheating on his boyfriend, even if the two were on the outs at the time. She cracked her eyes open and worked her way through the pain beating through her skull. She was still wearing her bra, and her shirt was mostly unbuttoned and looking worse for wear but at least she still had it on, she found her underwear by the nightstand and her trousers by the vanity dresser with one of her pumps next to it. She was pulling the second shoe from under the bed when Sirius woke up muttering a string of creative curses.

Asherah glanced over at the door then over to her jacket which was draped over the back of an armchair on the other side of the room, and decided that the jacket was getting a little old anyway and could do with being replaced.

And so, before Sirius could get his bearings, Asherah was closing the door behind her, hoping she could remember the way back to her hotel.


End file.
